Me and My Pistol
by Marie Shadows
Summary: Division Agents Ansel and Alexa are summoned to help keep some order in the madness that has befallen glorious New York City.
Me and my pistol

Agent Alexa

Bullets flew like short laser bursts, with a hungry yellow glow that burned with target acquirement. In the process, our cover points chipped off, slicing away at our clothing and mentality. We were the last defense for the city. For the JTF officers. The hostiles remained their namesake. A bunch of young kids. Scared. But a threat must be eliminated. I counted backwards from ten. Knowing their clips would empty.

Two...one.

I ready my pistol and fired off five rounds to the head of one, then another. They slumped to the floor. Bodies unresponsive. I ran to a different cover and waited. The JTF officers clipped some hostiles too. But it wasn't enough. Another wave of hostiles ran down the street. Their loud voices used for intimidation. I slowed my breathing, trying not to panic.

Two turrets flew overhead. The lasers seek out threats. One hostile kept running, bat in hand-such sloppy performance. The turrents took aim and fired in rapid succession. They dropped like the snow. I threw a grenade and weaken them.

"Sorry I'm late," Agent Ansel said, sliding next to me.

"Always the one with a flashy entrance."

"Rhodes wasn't ready yet. These are the betas before we can play with the prototypes."

"I see," I said. "Well it's helping. The hostiles numbers are dwindling." I peeked over the cover.

"Last one!" shouted a JTF officer.

As the body hit the ground, we all slowly stood. Muscles might have ached but it was part of the job. "Is everyone alright? Anyone need medical attention!" I looked around. I had two medkits left and I knew my brother and I was headed back to BASE. The JTF officers shook their head, and some threw up a thumb. With a nod, we left.

***

Faye Lau greeted us, "Nice job out there."

Rhodes pushed by her, "How were the betas?"

Ansel gave him the two turrets. "They were great. Came in handy." A moment later, "It was like having the actual prototypes." Ansel smiled at him. "I have work to do," Rhodes walked away.

"You would think he'd have more manners," Faye said, hopping away. I rushed by her side, lifting her arm up to settle around my neck. It was a short walk to her desk, but her leg hadn't fully heal yet. Only fresh bandages were applied. She sat down and looked at me. "We're taking this city back."

"I know," I said. It was Faye's means of reassurance.

"No time for rest. There's a hostage situation at Clinton. Eliminate the threat and rescue the hostages. There's a doctor we need alive. Dr. Whitney."

I acknowledge. Behind me, she says, "Oh and it might reopen some wounds."

Of course it might. I tap Ansel on the arm, we restock, and head north uptown.

***  
Our clothes were bloodstained and our ammo almost depleted. The only weapon saving us was our pistols. Unlimited rounds. We aimed for the heads but the thick padding allowed a few more seconds of their life. We dodge beams of flames. My skin trembled at heat of the flame. We tried to shoot the tanks. Too many. We went up, for higher ground. The hideout wasn't anything special. Simple building, simple infrastructure. I felt just limited and confined.  
On that second floor, I spotted a container. I unlocked it. Shotgun with enough bullets. I jumped from my spot, dash towards them, psyche them out with a dodge, and aimed perfectly at that tubing. A loud hiss sounded from the tank. I rolled far to safety. The enemies scrambled to theirs, but the blast was too great. It caught a couple of Cleaners. They reminded me of menacing butchers from horror movies. Too big and wide, never seeing their faces.  
Ansel made a run for it, and shot down the two last Cleaners. I sat next to him. Both of us exhausted. The hostages could wait.

"This is like an unbelievable dream," I said.

"How so," breathed Ansel.

"All those games we used to play, defeating the giant boss."

"We don't get much of a reward," he chuckled.

"I rather be intact, then receive a reward." I stood, and offered my hand to my brother. He accepted, helping him up.

"Nice shooting," he said. I slapped him on the arm.

We traveled up to the last floor. Fifth floor, with weapons in hand and a happy trigger finger. Ansel often looked over his shoulder. The staircase was narrow with no cover. I pushed the door open. An empty help desk, papers everywhere, a broken electrical box, and no chairs. We spotted a lone door. Banging and shouts came from within. That doctor was in there. I stopped for a moment. Ansel was ahead of me by a few paces, then realized it.  
"You can wait at the door. Be lookout," he said.

"Sure," I whispered. I didn't have a choice. My feet wouldn't move even on my brain's command. I heard the door knob unlock and the door opened. The voiced emptied out into the room. Women and men were trapped. Then a body collapsed. I didn't see it, but I heard that bone crushing jab. The others screamed, running downstairs. The JTF officers should be outside.

I walked over to the commotion. Without thinking, without control, because I felt trance, I reloaded the shotgun and pointed it at Dr. Whitney.

"We meet again, motherfucker," I growled.

Ansel watched carefully. He wasn't the only one to get his licks in too.

"It was about six months ago, sweet Alexa," the doctor said.

I switched to the pistol and popped one off in the leg. He yelled and writhe in pain. Ansel held his breath, remained vigilant of my actions. "I ain't sweet now, am I fucker?" a roar of intensity sounded.

"You bitch," Dr. Whitney venomously said.

"Alexa…" Ansel warned, lips thinly pressed. His hands were tight fists and his calves clenched.

I put my pistol away, turned my back on the doctor, and looked at my brother. "We can take him in."

Ansel released his held breath, and called for medical assistance and a JTF Officer.


End file.
